II I do not fear to face the fact and say, How darkly-dull my living hours have grown, My wounded heart sinks heavier than stone, Because I loved you longer than a day! I do not shame to turn myself away From beckoning flowers beautifully blown, To mourn your vivid memory alone In mountain fastnesses austerely gray. The mists will shroud me on the utter height, The salty, brimming waters of my breast Will mingle with the fresh dews of the night To bathe my spirit hankering to rest. But after sleep I’ll wake with greater might, Once more to venture on the eternal quest.
